In five days we've driven over 1000km from Tripoli along the northern coast road of Libya, heading east. It hasn't been the most interesting drive, as we'd been warned, but it's been more enjoyable than we expected and we've broken the back of the journey. Along the road, these have become familiar sights:
shredded tyres and burnt-out shells of cars: a constant reminder of the danger of driving these roads.
police checkpoints: there are a lot of these and it's a game we play as we approach, will they stop us or won't they? We've been surprised by how few have paid us any attention at all. When we are stopped, we smile, hand over our passports and visas (with copies to save time) and engage in the same limited Arabic banter. More often than not, they just want to look at the truck or discuss England's latest World Cup match. One of us couldn't give a monkey's if they win, but doesn't know how to explain that in Arabic so just smiles and nods.
barbed wire: the night after we visited Leptis Magna (which incidentally was impressive, even after several ruined cities already on this trip) we searched for a seaside spot to pull over to sleep for the night, but for miles upon miles, the road was lined on both sides by barbed wire indicating either that we were in a military zone, or that the area was still mined. Over 17 million mines still lie under the sand in northern Libya and Egypt, some WWII, others more modern.
animal corpses, bloated and stiff with rigamortis: dogs, goats and, at one point, the remains of a camel. And we pass a lot more than we see: we often pass the undeniable stench of something rotting.
the unpredictability of the road: unannounced changes from motorway to an old two-lane to a brand new dual carriageway. This section was particularly interesting. One side hasn't been officially opened but the Libyans are using it anyway. Of course, without any lane discipline, both sides have traffic flowing in both directions - two parallel two lane roads. Anarchic insanity.
race track or rough road: sometimes the blacktop is pristine and a-few-days-old fresh, elsewhere it is so cut up that oncoming HGVs swerve into your path to avoid potholes that are too huge even for them to roll through.
roadsigns all in Arabic: and why shouldn't they be? But it doesn't make navigation any easier. Good job it is basically one straight road all the way from West to East. Recognition of shapes takes over from reading: Sirte has a smiley face at the far left of the script and Bengazi has a snake followed by a funky "J" .
road mirages that make even huge trucks disappear in the shining haze.
an intricate system of beam flashing, indicator blips and horn beeps: no idea what they mean as everyone seems to have their own particular code that they nevertheless expect you to understand and comply with immediately on pain of a crash. For example, on different occasions a blast of a horn seems to have meant, "out of the way'', "thanks for letting me pass", "don't overtake", "cool truck".
and we thought the Italians were bad: Libyan drivers are F*****G nutters: murderous, suicidal, machoistic speed freaks with a blind faith in their own survival and the arrogant assurity that when they are overtaking and speeding up the wrong side of the carriageway that the bloke driving straight towards them will chicken out first. "Of course he will because I am a real man and he is not". Is the standard of driving inversely proportionate to the level of misogyny deemed acceptable in a society? A crying shame this road non-sense, as not only does it kill more Libyans than any other means of self termination or disease, but out of a car and away from a road they are, in our experience, almost without exception, civilised and generous people.
Today, we have reached Libya's second largest city Bengazi, where a hot shower, a washing machine, and a bottle of HP sauce awaited us, courtesy of a man we'd never even met: Jim Badiali. (Phonecalls had been made from the Land Rover boys in Tripoli, and our reputation preceded us.) Tomorrow we plan to continue east into the Green Mountains, in search for the colour we miss the most.
Route, photos and more at www.thelongandwinding.co.uk
